To Live Another Day
by ice-connoisseur
Summary: Obligatory response to the end of series two. Will be followed by some form of angsty oneshot, no doubt. Ten ways she lived. Many crossovers, verrry odd. Read at your peril. Spoilers galore.
1. In Persia

**Title**: To Live Another Day  
**Author**: Kate's Master, aka Emma  
**Summery**: Obligatory response to the end of series two. Will be followed by some form of angsty oneshot, no doubt. Ten ways she lived. Many crossovers, verrry odd. Read at your peril. Spoilers galore.

**Disclaimer**: Hmmm. Well, if I owned it…for starters we'd be RID of all ideas of killing off Marian. And Will and Djaq wouldn't be going off on their own – although spin-off series' seem to be the way to go at the BBC at the moment. I'm waiting for "Will and Djaq Adventures". So no…not me. Sorry.

**Authors Notes**: I cried. A lot. So did my sister. I mean…half the time the acting is kinda odd/wooden, some of the lines are down right cheesy/weird/stilted/bad combination of the three…but still. Marian! Sigh.

But, as Beth kept sobbing to me…they can't do Robin Hood without Marian. So I've concocted a few ways they could bring her back. Again. Anyone but me seeing the pattern here? In fact, they need her back to have someone to kill at the end of the next series!

Please note – this is a humour thingy. I think the correct term is crack fic? Anyway. It is NOT TO BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY. It is the stupid, silly wanderings of an exceptionally desperate teenage mind. So…yeah. Don't take it seriously.

* * *

**Ten Ways That She Lives**

1. They've accidentally buried her in Persia, on top of the Sands of Time, which do their stuff, and, voila – one living breathing, stab-woundless-Marian. Albeit, hundreds of miles from where she needs to be, but still…

* * *

The sun rises above the still desert, causing the two neat mounds of earth to cast their long shadows across the sand. All is still, all is quiet – the earth has no knowledge of the horrors that happened here.

Except…one mound, if you look closely, see…small grains of sand, tumbling down from the top, more and more of them…and suddenly…BAM! A fist, bursting through the top, sending sand flying everywhere. And the hand is followed by an arm, and then another arm, and a head and a pair of shoulders…

Slowly, slowly, muscles tired and aching through lack of use, Lady Marian edged herself out of the ground and stood once more on the earth's surface. She squinted against the glare of the sun, taking in the barren landscape around her.

She was a long way from home.

* * *

Hmmm…well, things can only get odder from here! 


	2. In Deception

**Title**: To Live Another Day  
**Author**: Kate's Master, aka Emma  
**Summery**: Obligatory response to the end of series two. Will be followed by some form of angsty oneshot, no doubt. Ten ways she lived. Many crossovers, verrry odd. Read at your peril. Spoilers galore.

**Disclaimer**: I wish. I really, really wish. Marian lives!!! One day. I'm working on it…until then, all credit and hatemail to the BBC. Mainly the latter, I believe.

**Authors Notes: **So, it's starting to sink in. Kind of. Beth is now wandering round in a daze muttering "how could he? Guy! How _could_ you?!"

By next October, we may even have accepted it. And then the show will restart, and the cruel, cruel world will return to huant us. Pah.

Love and brownies to **Homeric** and** M. Sullivan** for their reviews.

* * *

**Ten Ways That She Lives**

2. It wasn't Marian – it was some random side character wearing a mask, and she'll turn up safe and sound next series.

* * *

It was a smaller, far more sombre group that returned to Sherwood Forest. Somehow, coming back here, to a place that held so many memories, made the hurts that the long journey had begun to heal seem all the more real.

Suddenly feeling the need to avoid his friend's face, Much hurried ahead to open the camp. His cry of shock echoed through the forest, and caused his friends to drop the packs they carried and sprint round the final corner. At which point all three stopped in a mixture of amazement and disbelief.

Marian stood there, hands on hips, her lips thin and face as cross as any of them had ever seen it.

"Robin of Locksley, you had better have a bloody good excuse this time round!"

No one spoke for several minutes, too busy gaping at her.

"Marian?" hazarded Much after a few minutes.

She tutted angrily.

"Yes, Much? Perhaps you'd care to explain, since Robin seems incapable of speech."

"But…but you…and the sword…and Gisborne…and the wedding…" The ex-servant babbled on, completely and utterly lost.

"Much, what on earth are you going on about? What wedding? Gisborne's sword?"

"You're dead…" murmured Robin, finally remembering the location of his tongue.

Now she frowned, totally lost.

"Evidently not, since I'm standing here yelling at you. Where on earth have you been? Six months I've been looking for you!"

"Six months?" Allan, ever the practical one, was doing some rapid thinking. "But…like, four months ago…we were burying you."

"Burying me? What on…will someone please explain what you are all going on about?"

"Perhaps you could explain what happened to you after you tried to kill the Sheriff…" hazarded John.

"The Sheriff took me to the dungeons. I was there until one of the servant girls freed me. I bribed her. I've been looking for you ever since…where have you been?!"

"The Holy Lands." said Robin, looking ever so slightly dazed. "Gisborne…he stabbed you. You died. We buried you."

Marian looked blank.

"I've never left England, let alone gone to the Holy Lands. Robin, what on earth are you all going on about?"

"Prove it." said John suddenly. "Prove that you're not some trick of the Shriefs."

"How?"

"Something only Marian would know. Anything."

Marian – or an amazingly similar look-a-like – wracked her brains. And then smiled.

"You, Robin Hood, are the only man to propose to me over a fresh grave by comparing me to your weapon. And then you gave me this."

And from her pocket she withdrew a emrald-studded ring.

A relay of emoitions chased across Robins face – dispair, disbelief, and finally, that never-ceasing wonder…hope.

He crossed the ground between them faster than it should have been possible to, and caught her in such a bone crushing hug that it was a wonder she wasn't suffocated there and then.

Perhaps she realised how much he needed this…perhaps she sensed the desperation, the fear of losing all over again…perhaps, really, she had been facing the same thoughts herself.

England needed them.

Enlgand need him.

He needed her.

* * *

So, basically, the Shrieff decided to mess with everyone's minds, and send in the fake Marian.

I wish.

And on we go...

Happy New Year!


	3. In Sickness

**Title**: To Live Another Day  
**Author**: Kate's Master, aka Emma  
**Summery**: Obligatory response to the end of series two. Will be followed by some form of angsty oneshot, no doubt. Ten ways she lived. Many crossovers, verrry odd. Read at your peril. Spoilers galore.

**Disclaimer**: I wish. So much. One day, maybe…if I'm very very good. Until then…you're looking at the wrong person, kiddo.

**Author's Notes:** So. A week has passed. Are we any happier about it? I think not. Many thanks to the people who's reviews did bring a smile to my face: **Spinningisfun, LoonyLover, homeric, X-Kate-X **and **BeckyScarlett.**

And I've just read on Wikipedia that the BBC has "confirmed in a statement" that Lucy Griffiths will not return for series three.

Hope fades…

* * *

**Ten Ways That She Lives**

3. Miracle Saracen medicine once more works its wonders.

* * *

"Look, I'm not bein' funny or anything…but she's still breathing. Again." Allan's drawl cut across the mourners as they stood round the two bodies on the ground, one deathly still, the other heaving in silent sobs.

"What?" Djaq, instantly all business, hurried forward.

"Sure. See?"

"The sword! Quick!"

Wordlessly, Will handed her the bloodstained sword. The healer held it against Marian's pale face, and there was a moment of silence, as the surrounding crowd held their breath, waiting, hoping…

"Yes!" the Saracen woman breathed, relief and wonder seeping through her voice in equal amounts. "Robin! Quick! We must get her to the camp…she needs proper treatment…"

Robin was up even as the words were leaving her mouth, scooping his wife (later, he hoped, he would have time to marvel at the label) into his arms and hurrying back the way they had come.

It was a long night. English physicians had rushed to their king, and he in turn had directed them to Marian. But then the first one had snapped at Djaq, ordered her out of the way, and Robin had stepped in. Djaq was in charge. What she needed, she got. Her, he trusted with Marian. No one else.

And so Djaq had worked. She was a scientist first, and a healer second, but here she was in familiar territory, with the medicines and equipment she had first learnt with close at hand, and here she thrived.

In the early hours, they thought all was well. Marian's eyes began to flicker, and for a moment she focused on Robin, who had not moved since he carried her in. But then she shuddered, and began to cry out, thrashing in a pain that ran deeper than anything the outlaws had faced and survived before. One of the English physicians, older than most, who had not scattered as far as the others when Robin growled at them to get out, came forward, and did not offer his help – he realised, perhaps, that the offer would not be accepted. Instead, he gave it.

The two of them moved in tandem, mixing and pounding, hands flying everywhere. Finally, as dawn announced itself, Djaq allowed Will to lead her away, and John escorted the nameless Englishman to his tent. There was little more to do but wait.

During the first day she slept, each outlaw came, other than Robin, who did not leave, and sat, keeping a silent vigil over their fallen…friend? Comrade? Nothing quite seemed to fit anymore.

On the second day, when she had still not woken, the King quietly ordered for a hole to be dug besides the place that had become Carter's grave. He told none of the friends of his actions, but he had spent many years on the battlefield, and his was a grimmer outlook.

On the third day, Much and Allan between them physically removed Robin from her bedside, refusing him access for exactly one hour. As usual, he did not listen to their attempts to explain that he would do no one any good at all if he passed out himself from lack of food and sleep. The action itself did little good, but the point was made – that night, he did sleep, if only for a few fitful hours.

And, on the fourth day…she woke. Mid morning, without ceremony or pre-warning, much as she tended to go through life, she simply opened her eyes and spoke.

"Robin."

Had he not already been there, he would have flown to her side. She smiled at him, and he smiled back, and everything that needed saying was said in the silence.

* * *

Hmmm…tell you what I am glad about. The fact that they didn't just do an actor-swap when Lucy Griffiths said she wanted out.

Random musing of the day for you all. See you next time!


	4. In Extraordinary Health

**Title**: To Live Another Day  
**Author**: Kate's Master, aka Emma  
**Summery**: Obligatory response to the end of series two. Will be followed by some form of angsty oneshot, no doubt. Ten ways she lived. Many crossovers, verrry odd. Read at your peril. Spoilers galore.  
**Disclaimer**: Alas, still, not mine. I can claim the strange little stooped man, and that's about it…

**Author's Notes**: Sorry! I got caught up in a lovely pile of exams and revision, which, for some reason, I had to put before my writing…don't ask me why. But I'm back now, for a short while, so this will be finished!

Anyone else heard the rumours that Lucy Griffiths is "in talks" with the BBC Hopes very hard 

My thanks to those who took the time to review last chapter: **AngelsShadow816, Homeric, Zetta** and **LoonyLover**. Apologises to you especially for the wait!

* * *

4. Crossover with Frankenstein…no doubt Robin would nominate Marian as a willing test subject…

* * *

Lightening flashed through the night sky, picking out the stark landscape in plain, sharp outlines. Tonight was not a night to be out and about – anyone with half a teaspoon of sense was safely indoors, huddled round fires or in bed.

But in the darkness, far away from anyone and anything beyond the world itself, someone was laughing. It was not a good laugh. It cackled and shrieked and coiled around the large room, seeking out the shadowy corners and draughty rafters, echoing far longer than was normal.

The origin of the laugh did not disappoint – a small person, who had successfully halved his height by training himself a fairly spectacular stoop. As the laugh finally began to fade away, he began to dart around, twisting bits of metal and occasionally banging on a large wooden box that took pride of place in the centre of the room. A long metal rod, that looked as though it had been made by bits of butchered armoury, stretched out of the box up into the ceiling, and, presumably, out onto the roof.

In front of the box was a long, wooden table, built to specific requirements by Will Scarlett. And on top of the table lay…a body. But at the same time, not a body. Body would imply that the person it had once been was now dead – gone, at rest, deceased – and yet, with this particular body, there was something unerringly…lively…about it.

Although her – for it was very evidently a female body – chest did not move, and although, if you listened, you would hear no heart beat, there was something fluid about the stillness of the fallen woman.

"It is ready?"

A voice, dripping with desire and worry and the never ceasing wonder of hope, spoke into the flickering darkness.

"It is ready." cackled the little man. "Once we have the…the right conditions…then…she shall live."

"You are sure? Properly, truly?"

"She will live as much has she ever did before. It will be like waking from a sleep…a long, long sleep…"

If he were thinking straight, Robin might have thought to wonder why the little man could be so sure of this, since this was the first experiment of its kind ever conducted. But there was something so…so mad about his companion, as though madness itself had turned away from him, that was oddly reassuring. A mad man could think up this device. Only one who had toppled over the edge of madness and into the deep, swirly mess of whatever lay beyond could make it work.

And work it did.

Lightening flashed outside, and, a moment later, the metal rod seemed to light up, crackling with a strange energy. It flowed into the box and back out again, lighting up the still woman with an uneerie glow. For a few moments, there was nothing but the crackle of the strange light and the heavy breathing of the little man.

And then she twitched. Her fingers curled and uncurled, trying to grip something that wasn't there.

"You see! You see!" the little man was beside himself with excitement. "She lives!"

Robin didn't hear him. The moment the crackling energy had faded he had rushed to her side, anxiously studying Marian's face for any sign of life. Three months ago, she had died. Two months ago, as they crossed the desert countries on the way home, the remaining members of Robin Hood's gang had heard of the strange little man, seeking someone willing to donate a dead body in aid of science. Once Robin worked out exactly what the man hoped to achieve, there was no stopping him. They had returned, exhumed Marian's body, prayed to whatever god that would listen that it would remain suitable for life over the following weeks, and sought out the scientist.

It was both terrifying and exhilarating, the feeling of watching history itself being rewritten in front of them – for they were all there, of course. Djaq, torn between her protests at the wrongness of the procedure, her admiration for the little man's genius and her desire to see their friend wake; Will, quiet, solemn, seeing all and understanding most; John, uncomfortable with the complexities of the experiment but understanding, perhaps best of all, the pain of separation from them you loved; Allan, determined to do anything to prove his loyalties; and Much, who simply wanted to see his Master happy.

From the shadows, where they had waited all evening, accepting that tonight was for their leader alone, they watched.

Watched him slowly take her hand, watched him smile a strangely nervous smile they had never seen on him before…watched her smile back.

For him, she lived. Always.

* * *

At this point, most of you have probably realised…I've never read, seen or heard the proper story of Frankenstein, I've just used a few of the best known clichés for this. My apologises to any true fans of the tale.

Anyway, there're still another six to go…hopefully up in the next couple of weeks! Thanks for reading!


	5. In Silver

**Title**: To Live Another Day  
**Author**: Kate's Master, aka Emma  
**Summery**: Obligatory response to the end of series two. Will be followed by some form of angsty oneshot, no doubt. Ten ways she lived. Many crossovers, verrry odd. Read at your peril. Spoilers galore.  
**Disclaimer**: Despite numourous attempts at blackmail, bribary and all out pleaeding, they still won't give it to me. So no, alas, I'm yet to own Robin Hood and all it contains…

**Author's Notes**: One day, I'll get back into the habit of regular updating. Until then…sorry. Although it should get better for while, since my Uni apilication has gone through the system fully, and I've had all my replies and stuff. No more mad post checking. Bristol, here I come!

Eternal love and thanks to **BeckyScarlett, AngelsShadow816, LoonyLover **and **SpiritOfSherwood** for their reviews – they were much appreciated!

* * *

**Ten Ways That She Lives**

5. She was wearing a special vest – mirthrial, perhaps – which means she's just winded. Very badly winded. Hence the lack of blood.

* * *

His face was grave, and Marian's first thought was that the parcel in her father's arms contained some latest gift from Guy. The words he spoke, however, did not quite tie in with that scenario.

"I cannot say I always agree with the choices you make, or the path they are taking you," he began, grave and sombre. "But you are my daughter, and I will not see you harmed. Gisborne will no longer protect you, and I am an old man. This has been in our family for many generations…it belonged to your grandmother, and, when she had only sons, she bestowed it to me to pass on to my daughter."

Frowning, Marian took the package and opened it. A shirt of what appeared to be fine silver chain mail tumbled out.

"Oh…" she gasped, holding it up. "It's beautiful…"

Edward smiled. "It is centuries old, I imagine, although I have no idea how it was made…or, indeed, what it is made of."

"Not silver, then?"

"Watch."

He lay the shirt down on the table by the window, and picked up a knife he had bought up from the kitchens. Smiling slightly at his daughter, Edward plunged the knife downwards. Marian gasped, horrified at the sudden destruction of such a beautiful thing, and then again, when she realised the shirt had simply deflected the knife, leaving not even a mark.

"How…?"

"It's the metal, apparently. My grandfather gave it to several blacksmiths and metalworkers to examine, and none of them could even discover what it was. Some form of alloy, possibly. You should wear it at all times; it is very light."

Marian smiled and nodded, and he left. Edward had kept the shirt for many years, in a box in his room, and, occasionally, he would take it out to examine. He had long ago noticed how it had been designed – definitely a shirt for a woman, for it would fall most oddly on a man – and it made him smile. His daughter was obviously far more like her ancestors than she thought.

Marian slipped the shirt on that afternoon. She was wearing it days later, when Gisborne and his men came to burn their house down. And she was still wearing it months later, when, in the Holy Land, he attempted to stick a sword through her stomach. And, for the first time in it's long and colourful history, the shirt appeared to have failed. Immense pain…a sword, sticking straight up from her belly…Djaq shaking her head in sorrow…the effort of pulling the shaft of metal from her body…darkness…

* * *

Tears blurred his vision as Robin of Locksley laid his wife down besides the freshly dug grave. It was late afternoon, for bodies did not last long in the scorching desert heat, and it was custom to bury them as quickly as possible. The ring on her still-warm finger caught the sun, reflecting a red tinged over her already blood stained shirt…blood stained…blood?

Grasping the distraction, the opportunity to not think, for a few moments, of the future currently lying before him, Robin looked at the still body, his mind, for the first time, coldly clear of grief.

Something was not right. Something was missing…something important…

"Djaq!"

She was at his side a second later, automatically responding to the order in his voice.

"Blood!" he cried, sounding slightly manic.

Djaq looked at him blankly.

"Blood!" he cried again. "Why is there no blood?!"

Confusion took over the Saracen's face as she digested his words, followed by a sudden flurry of movement.

"A knife, quickly." she demanded, taking the pro-offered instrument and quickly cutting through the still woman's clothes. The material was already roughly ripped by the sword, which appeared to have caught the loose clothing several times over. The half of Djaq's mind not occupied with examining her friend chose to marvel at how the shirt had stayed on at all.

Moving fast, and yet with an amazing delicacy, Djaq removed the remains of the shirt. And gasped.

For in place of the large, bloodied wound that she should have found there was a layer of shimmering metal. Unbroken, shimmering metal.

Unconsciously holding her breath, Djaq picked up the noblewoman's arm and pressed two fingers to her wrist. A steady, determined, wonderfully, beautifully strong pulse almost seemed to almost resonate through her fingers and up her arm.

"She lives!" she cried, leaning backward and staring down at the still body in shock. "The shirt…whatever it is…it is a miracle! She is very, very badly bruised, I think, perhaps a few broken ribs…but praise Allah!"

The silence that followed was broken only by Robin's trembling breath as he reached out to grasp his wife's hand.

"I thought…I thought I was imagining it. When I was carrying her. The pulse." He quavered, falling back into wondrous silence.

Unconscious, battered, bruised…it did not matter. Here, in the hot lands of some foreign country, his Marian had died. And here, in the hot lands of some foreign country, she lived. That was far more than enough.

* * *

Hopefully will have the next one out within the week…no promises, but I'll do my best! 


	6. In Secret

**

* * *

**

Title

: To Live Another Day  
**Author**: Kate's Master, aka Emma  
**Summery**: Obligatory response to the end of series two. Will be followed by some form of angsty oneshot, no doubt. Ten ways she lived. Many crossovers, verrry odd. Read at your peril. Spoilers galore.

**Disclaimer**: Still not mine. Alas, alack, and all that jazz.

**Authors Notes**: Insert appropriate apologises here. I'm so amazingly sorry, I can't even begin to express it. Work, exams, revision, driving…not to mention the return of Torchwood, and then Doctor Who, which altered my fan-centre slightly…but yeah. Sorry.

I've only got two left to write now, though, so you should hopefully have them all by the time the next series starts!

Hugest apologises to KeepingAmused, LoonyLover and rh2006fan, and thanks as well for your reviews. Sorry there were no replies – I've been snowed under with all sorts of thoroughly boring activities.

Anyway, at long last, on we go once more!

* * *

**Ten Ways That She Lives**

6. Optical illusion they were all playing on Gisborne, so she and Robin can get married without his dark brooding interrupting them all the time.

* * *

The funeral party stood in sombre silence, heads bowed, frozen as though waiting for a cue. It arrived in the form of a young boy, maybe fourteen or fifteen, who came galloping up to the group on a small horse.

He dropped to the sand in front of the king, panting slightly.

"Well, James?" the King asked, staring down at the boy's bent shoulders.

James, blushing slightly at the realisation that the king knew his name – he, who would be little more than a stable boy, if they had stables out here – straightened and faced the group.

"They're gone. They have boarded a ship, and I watched until it rounded the headland. There is no way message can reach them with any haste now, unless they return suddenly for some reason."

King Richard nodded. "Thank you, James."

It was as though someone had flicked a switch. What had been a silent, brooding company were suddenly smiling once more, and Robin, grinning widely, leant forward to help his wife to her feet. The King, perhaps sensing that this was a time for friends, silently took his leave and left.

"I can't believe he fell for it!" sighed Allen, shaking his head. "I mean…not being funny or anything, but it'd be nice to think they were vaguely intelligent."

"Unlike you, then." sniped Much, but he was smiling too.

"You think it'll work, though?" asked Marian, sounding worried.

Robin waved one hand airily. "Course it will. Gisborne thinks you're dead, the Sheriff thinks you're dead, so you can stay out here and return with the king when the war is over without worrying about repercussions in Knighton, caused either by your presence or absence."

Much shook his head. "I hope that made sense to someone, because it didn't to me."

"Luckily, my friend," said Robin cheerfully, "it doesn't need to."

Marian was frowning. "I still don't like this." she muttered. "You all returning to fight, me just staying behind…"

"To fight as well." interjected Djaq. "You and I, Marian, have peace to make here. We will end this war, and then we go home. Your people remain safe in their village, and you," she pointed seriously at each outlaw in turn, "will have to cope without us."

And so, three days later, the gang went their separate ways. It would be two years before they all met once more, in the soft shadows of Sherwood, but the meeting would be merry, and unending. Their battle would be over…and their reward would last each man (and woman) a lifetime.

* * *

And that's that. Sorry once more – next one should be up much sooner!


	7. In Drug Induced Recovery

**Title**: To Live Another Day  
**Author**: Kate's Master, aka Emma  
**Summery**: Obligatory response to the end of series two. Will be followed by some form of angsty oneshot, no doubt. Ten ways she lived. Many crossovers, verrry odd. Read at your peril. Spoilers galore.

**Disclaimer**: Six months on, and they still won't give me a say in bringing Marian et al back. So I can safely say most definitely not mine.

**Authors Notes**: Hahaha, so much for a return to regular updates. Exams and all that jazz, I'm afraid. But I'm back, and finishing – mainly because there are few things I hate quite as much as an unfinished story, so it would be awfully hypocritical of me not to. And I'm quite enjoying myself, too. One we go again!

* * *

**Ten Ways That She Lives**

7. The blade she was stabbed with was covered in a special potion that works as a healing thingy, slowly restoring her body. She's just currently in a coma. Again.

* * *

"You ready?" asked Much quietly, staring at the back of his friends head. Robin was standing at the edge of the English camp, gazing at nothing across the empty desert.

He laughed hollowly. "No."

"Oh." Much struggled silently for a moment. "Well, you need to come."

Oddly, Robin smiled at that. So many times such a comment would have annoyed him, irritated him, and yet in the darkness he was currently hiding in, such normality was fondly familiar.

Perhaps it was due to the slight daze his friend had thrown him into that Robin didn't fight back as Much took him by the arm and began to guide him towards one of the tents in the centre of camp.

They were nearly there when Much stopped suddenly, causing Robin to walk straight into the back of him.

"Wha…"

"Something's happened." muttered Much, displaying unusual levels of observation.

Robin blinked, and looked about. There were several stable boys hurrying about, ducking in and out of the tent they were in front of, muttering amongst themselves, and to one side Allen, Will and Little John stood looking caught between confusion and worry.

"What's happened?" asked Robin, business as usual the moment anything appeared to keep his mind off what he was going to have to acknowledge sometime in the future. Far in the future, if he had it his way. "The king? Is he alright?"

"The King's fine…" said Will slowly.

"It's Marian." finished Allen, blunt as ever.

"But she's dead!" exclaimed Much, wincing as Robin stiffened beside him.

Little John coughed, and Robin moved so quickly that a blink would mean you missed it. Never mind that Little John was twice the size of him, never mind the huge man could lift boulders, never mind the fact that simple physics meant Robin should not have been able to grab Little John by the front of his jacket and force his whole body to bend so they were face to face…it still happened.

"What. Has. Happened." he demanded through gritted teeth, his mouth an inch from John's face.

A hand was laid on his arm, gently pulling him away from the giant.

"Come with me, Robin." said Djaq softly, and she pulled him inside the tent.

Marian lay on a raised pallet, uncovered, the wound in her stomach open to the air thanks to a large panel that had been cut out the front of her dress.

Robin looked blankly around.

"What's going on? What's happened?"

The confrontation with Little John seemed to have taken away his energy – the fire was gone, and all that remained was a sort of bleak lost look that reminded Djaq of a small child.

"Marian isn't dead, Robin."

Robin stared.

"It seems…I'm not totally sure, and I'll need to examine the blade to be certain…but remember last time Gisborne stabbed her? The poison worked its way through her body, slowly killing her?"

Robin nodded mutely.

"Well, it seems…somehow, and I've never seen anything like it before…this time the opposite has happened. The wound is healing, from the inside out. Amazingly fast, too…you can already begin to see it. I'm going to close up the wound, of course, and…"

Djaq let her voice trail off. Tears were sliding down Robin's face, leaving tracks in the fine layer of sand.

He didn't move for three days – sat by his unconscious wife while Djaq and one of the English surgeons repaired the gaping hole in her belly, sat by her all through the night that followed, and the day after, and the day after. He was still there when she woke, and with her smile as her eyes focused on his face, the future suddenly stopped looking like such a bleak place to be.

* * *

Ok, so I'm fairly certain such a drug does not exist, and we're glossing over exactly why Gisborne would have it on his sword…hey, we're delving into the deeps reaches of hope and prayer now, guys. Leave a review, if you feel so moved, and I promise it won't be quite so long between updates this time!


	8. In a State of Posession

**Title**: To Live Another Day  
**Author**: Kate's Master, aka Emma  
**Summery**: Obligatory response to the end of series two. Will be followed by some form of angsty oneshot, no doubt. Ten ways she lived. Many crossovers, verrry odd. Read at your peril. Spoilers galore.

**Disclaimer**: Not even our answering machine has my name on it – Robin Hood and the BBC definitely do not. So not mine. Neither is Maybelline, for that matter.

**Authors Notes**: I am here, I promise, battling on. It will be finished. Maybe even before the end of the month – I have nothing but two hours at work a day until the end of September, when I move to Uni. And I want to finish by then. Watch me go!

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**Ten Ways That She Lives**

8. The excessive Maybelline mascara will suddenly gain conscious thought, and posses her body (like the black stuff in Spider Man Three). It'll take her to Nottingham, and try to do some dastardly deeds, sending Robin into one of his angsty mopes (which is why they've killed her off in the first place, I reckon), until Djaq and Will return home with the King, who's made peace with everyone, and the sight of them two in love reminds the bit of Marian that was woken up with her body about how she loved Robin. They expel the evil dark stuff, everyone gets married and they all have a nice party.

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_The excessive Maybellene mascara will suddenly gain conscious thought, and posses her body (like the black stuff in Spider Man Three)..._

The Black was confused. Or it would have been, had such a basic human notion been known to it. Everything had been going so well, when suddenly…this. Utter and complete lack of anything. The darkness it did not mind – indeed, had it been able to, the Black would have felt quite at home – but the harsh, gritty warmth of the sand pushing down from all sides was not so good, and neither was the complete lack of anything from the host.

Cautiously, because entering a mind uninvited was never a pleasant experience, the Black began to sniff at the edges of Host's conscious. There was nothing there – no resistance, no fighting back, none of the defences that had thwarted its every other attempt to take over. With a glee it didn't know it possessed, the Black dived in.

Ten minutes later, the body of a dead woman stood beside the decimated grave. She automatically turned to face the north, and the Black sat back in its new mind and let her. Later, it would regret not realising what that movement should have told it. It was not just the body that had been reawakened when the Black pushed its way in.

--TWO YEARS LATER--TWO YEARS LATER--TWO YEARS LATER--TWO YEARS LATER--TWO YEARS LATER--TWO YEARS LATER--

_…it'll take her to Nottingham, and try to do some dastardly deeds, sending Robin into one of his angsty mopes (which is why they've killed her off in the first place, I reckon)…_

They were holding up a carriage on the North Road the first time they encountered her. John had just relieved the incumbents of their riches and sent the vehicle once more on its way when an arrow shot out of nowhere and buried itself in the soil at Allan's feet.

"Leave the bag by the arrow." a female voice called. "And leave. Or next time, I won't miss."

Robin and Much both made for their weapons, searching the surrounding undergrowth for the source, but the voice spoke once more.

"You even think of raising your bow, Robin of Locksley, and your friend will be dead before he's hit the ground. Put the money by the arrow and leave!"

"Do it, John." ordered Robin shortly, still searching for the voice's owner. The big man sighed, but their leader ignored him – a flash of green in the bushes, directly between himself and Much, and, with any luck, it's eyes would be too fixed on watching Little John and the money to be paying attention to him.

Moving with a speed he'd forgotten he possessed, Robin ran and leapt, landing almost directly on top of the woman. She began to struggle, and they rolled out of the bushes onto the road, until a final hard shake from Robin dislodged the attackers hood.

Robin leapt back as if he's been burnt.

"Ma…Marian?" he croaked, and the woman laughed, still lying winded on the floor.

"Hello Hood." she crooned, in a voice that was dry and crackly and not like his Marian at all. "Miss me?"

And then, before any of the men regained use of their bodies after the shock, she twisted away, grabbed the bag and disappeared into the forest.

…_until Djag and Will return home with the King, who's made peace with everyone…_

It should have been a day of celebration. King Richard was in Nottingham, Will and Djaq were home at last, and the Sheriff was to be taken to London to stand trial in a matter of days. But Robin, skulking around the forests edge, was having a hard time smiling.

"Does he ever smile any more?" asked Djaq sadly, regarding their old leader from a distance. Little John grunted, and shook his head.

"I think it was kinder when she was dead." shrugged Allan.

"I think, from the sound of it, she still is dead." Will countered. "Whoever is stealing from the villages, was helping the Sheriff, all that…that is not Marian. It's something making convenient use of her body. Even if it once was her, it's not any more."

"Do you think he will come and join us?" asked Djaq quietly. The gang were camped out near the forests edge, currently sitting round the fire and trying to enjoy the peace of the knowledge that tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after, they wouldn't be fighting any more.

She needn't have asked – not three minutes later, the gaunt figure appeared between Much and Allan, taking the food Much offered him without a word. After a while of silence, Allan began recounting a story, remembering squirrel-meat and ivy leaves, and, by the end of it, even Robin was laughing.

_…and the sight of them two in love reminds the bit of Marian that was woken up with her body about how she loved Robin…_

In the darkness amongst the trees, the small party was being watched. Looking at the figure, it would have been impossible to guess the war that was waging inside its head. The Black's control on it's home was weakening with every passing minute, as the old incumbent watched the laughing group, heard the stories and memories they were sharing, lapping up every word that was spoken. Thing and Woman battled for control, until the body could bare it no longer, and turned tail, fleeing deeper and deeper into the trees.

All night it ran, tearing through the undergrowth, not caring about the branches that whipped at its face, the brambles that tore at its skin and clothes. And inside the body's head, the battle raged.

Eventually, dawn found it almost exactly where it had started, looking at the group of now-sleeping friends. It studied each face thoughtfully for a while, gazing at the younger, bearded man longest of all, and, finally, as the first birds began to make themselves known, the battle was won.

…_they expel the evil dark stuff…_

For perhaps the first time in living memory, it was Allan who woke first that morning. And so it was Allan who first saw the figure, in ripped, dirty clothing, with scratches all over her arms, huddled next to the remains of the previous nights fire.

He regarded her silently for a while, until she finally felt his gaze and turned to face him. Her eyes were as clear as the sky, unmarred by the darkness that had been lurking there for the past two years. A grin crept across Allan's face.

"Hello." he said quietly.

"Help me." whispered Marian. And they did.

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This idea originated from my sister, who has been despairing over the mascara since the first episode.

Review, if you've a moment. And I'll update, when I've a moment. Tis a circle.


	9. In Dreams

**Title**: To Live Another Day  
**Author**: Kate's Master, aka Emma  
**Summery**: Obligatory response to the end of series two. Will be followed by some form of angsty oneshot, no doubt. Ten ways she lived. Many crossovers, verrry odd. Read at your peril. Spoilers galore.

**Disclaimer**: If I owned Robin Hood, the next series would be starting in January and Marian would still be in it. Since neither is happening, I obviously don't.

**Authors Notes**: I AM ALIVE! It's been hectic. But I'm here, alive and pretty well and updating for your reading pleasure. Merry Christmas, one and all!

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Ten Ways That She Lives

9. IT WAS ALL A DREAM! The Sheriff has captured Robin, and fed him some mind-altering drug, which made him dream the whole thing. And he'll wake up in the first episode of the next series, and kiss lots of people and make Djaq and Will kiss each other, and all will be well.

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Hot…the heat, so very, very hot…dry sand in his toes, even Much beyond moaning now…thirst, like he's never been thirsty before…the ropes round his wrist, cutting into his skin, and they're going to die here, they all are, and it's all his fault…Marian, and failure, because she would die too, and that was a failure beyond anything else…blood on the sword, blood on the sand, anger like he's never known before, and her body, falling, falling…failing, failing…

Robin woke with a jerk, panting heavily and covered in sweat. The morning was cool, and all in the hideout the gang still slept, save Will, who was on watch. On watch. Not in the Holy Land. Not a thousand miles away from the trees he knew and loved. Slowly, the dream began to drain away, to be replaced with a euphoria that made him giddy. Around him, the others were beginning to wake, Much snuffling to himself, Little John stretching and relaxing as he returned to consciousness once more, Djaq already sitting up and rubbing her eyes…Djaq…

Taken with his sudden burst of energy, Robin leapt out of bed and threw his arms around the Saracen.

"Robin! What was that for?!" she cried, slightly surprised at her abrupt awakening.

"You're here, I'm here, everybody's here…" Robin laughed, launching himself at Much, who backed away in fear. "It's a new day, there're poor to be fed and Sheriffs to be taunted…Allan!"

"What?" blinked Little John, eyeing his leader warily.

"I need to go and see Allan. Where's Marian?"

Her absence pulled him up short, and the terror of the dream began to leak back.

"She's at the castle, Master." said Much slowly, as if speaking to a particularly slow child. "Are you alright? You should eat something…"

"Don't nag, Much, I'm entirely fine. More than fine. I'm going to see Allan. And Marian. Marian first, I think."

He was off, tearing out the camp like there was no tomorrow. He passed Will along the way, and shouted a greeting to him, before jogging back and embracing the carpenter tightly for several moments. And then he was off again, leaving one very bemused young man standing on the forest path and rubbing his nose in confusion.

Sometimes, Will Scarlet could not understand his leader one jot.

* * *

In the end, he didn't need to go as far as the castle. The market was already crowded when he reached the city, but a tuneless whistle he would have recognised anywhere caught Robin's attention. Ducking between stalls and lines of cloth, he followed the sound, and ground to a halt on the edge of a small square.

Directly opposite him, Marian was bent over a stall covered in cloth, talking to the stall owner, Allan standing sullenly nearby, scuffing one foot miserably in circles. It took a great deal of self-restraint for him not to stride across and carry her off with him there and then, consequences be dammed. But common sense, and a good idea of what her reaction would be if he did such a thing, held him back, and so Robin had to be content with hiding in the shadows, drinking in the sight of her, the sound of her voice. Even Allen's whistle, the source of so much annoyance in the past, was a wonderful sound this morning.

So he watched and cherished, and, later, as she and Allen headed back to the castle, waylaid them, stealing a kiss and clasping the ex-gang member briefly on the shoulder. Not forgiveness, not exactly. Not yet. More, the beginning of it. Because everybody lived, and even though the light of day dispelled the last of the dream from his mind, the dark, hollow feeling would never quite fade from memory.

They were his, every one of them, alive and well and together, and he would do everything in his power to keep it that way. This funny, miss-matched little group of people who meant the world to him, who would die for him, and he for them. Dreams and nightmares faded in the end, but this, his cold harsh reality of hunger and fear and the slow hope that tomorrow might be better, was ever present. And so long as he had his odd excuse for a family, in all their inept, ever-moaning, annoying glory, he could live with it.

His, and his alone, and he would protect them until his final breath from the terrors of the fates that stalked his dreams.

'Til death us do part.

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Not so happy with the ending, just couldn't tweak it to the point where I was happy with it. Only one more to go, and since it's reached this point, it seems fitting that the final update should be the one year anniversary of the final episode. So I shall see you all then!

And if you feel the need to spread Christmas joy, press the button below and drop us a quick review!

Happy Christmas!


	10. In the World of Russel T Davies

**Title**: To Live Another Day  
**Author**: Kate's Master, aka Emma  
**Summery**: Obligatory response to the end of series two. Will be followed by some form of angsty oneshot, no doubt. Ten ways she lived. Many crossovers, verrry odd. Read at your peril. Spoilers galore.

**Disclaimer**: Despite actually finishing this garbled tale, BBC still won't let me have it. -Sighs-

**Authors Notes**: And here we go! Final chapter! A year to the day since the BBC unleashed the cold horror on us. –Insert appropriate mournful thoughts here-

Anyway. Enjoy, and here's to the hope that the next series actually shows up sometime soon!

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Ten Ways That She Lives

The hot sand they've buried her in will cook her, and she'll be accidentally dug up by cannibals, who then eat her. The cannibals will then relocate to the Brecon Beacons, which is where lots of cannibals live, and be captured by Torchwood. Torchwood will then think…hmmm, let's clone the DNA of the last thing they ate, just for fun…and ta-da, one Marian. They'll then realise she's a few centuries out of her time, and the local Doctor will stop by to return her home. Just ignore the few hundred missing years in that one…much like they ignored the few months it would have taken them to get to the Holy Land.

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Enough said, really. And that's that.


End file.
